Pose

by Becca Jameson

  “Whose pussy is this?” He tapped her clit through the lace.

  “Yours, Sir.”

  “Tell me again.”

  “That pussy is yours, Sir.”

  “Have you forgotten?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “Ah, but I think you have.”

  She didn’t move. She held herself stiffly above him, her thighs tight to avoid coming without permission, her pussy splayed in the air with nothing under her to brace against.

  Julian slapped her pussy.

  Morgan screamed. She gritted her teeth to keep from coming, her toes curling against the need. Oh my God. A need she’d never experienced made her brow sweat and her arms shake where she gripped Julian’s shoulders. “Sir…” she pleaded. She never begged. Julian didn’t like it. But she needed to warn him.

  Julian grabbed her thighs with both hands and squeezed. He stroked the skin on both sides of her pussy with his thumbs. “Look at me.”

  She met his gaze. His deep dark penetrating eyes commanded her on their own. There was something in him tonight, something that frightened her and called to her at the same time. Like he was hanging on to the last bit of his control. She wanted him to snap. She wanted him to slap her clit again. She wanted everything.

  But instead, he smoothed his hands closer to her center and reached under her thong with both thumbs, pushing them inside her at the same time.

  The intrusion was tight, more than she was used to without him stretching her first.

  And then he pulled her pussy open wider with his thumbs from inside. He reached deeper. “Wait for it, little girl. I’ll tell you when.”

  She swallowed nothing. Her mouth was too dry.

  Julian pulled his thumbs out and replaced them with three fingers from one hand. With his other hand, he reached under the triangle of lace and roses. He found her clit and pinched it. “Now, little girl. Come.”

  Morgan shattered against him, her clit pulsing in time with her channel. Moisture flooded her, and she pumped against his fingers as he added another one, filling her even more. Her vision swam, faltering completely for a moment before she could focus on his face again. He smiled. “Good girl. I’m proud of you. You did good.”

  When the waves of her orgasm finally subsided, he released her clit and removed his fingers.

  Before she could gather words to form a sentence, Julian unbuttoned his pants, pulled his thighs closer and lifted his ass to lower his pants several inches, just enough to release his enormous erection. The dark skin of his cock amazed her as it stretched thinner, lightening a shade under the pressure. The head, a shade lighter still, glistened with his come.

  Morgan wanted to taste him, but she never had permission to request such a thing. Julian controlled everything. He always did. He always had. He always would.

  And he made her body hum as he played her like a perfectly tuned instrument. How could she argue with his methods?

  “If you like this sexy white lace very much, I suggest you stand and remove everything before I rip it off.”

  Morgan scrambled off Julian’s lap. Her legs barely held her, supporting her like jelly as she lowered the thong to the floor and tugged the baby-doll top over her head.

  Julian took her hips and lifted her into the same position. “Ride me, princess.” He lowered her over his cock, filling her so fast she gasped, body still thrumming from his fingers being inside her moments before. His cock was so thick he stretched her, no matter how often he took her.

  “Ride. Me.”

  She hadn’t moved yet, relishing the fullness of his cock seated completely inside her.

  He narrowed his gaze.

  Morgan lifted off him until only the tip of his dick remained inside, just how he liked it. She gripped his shoulders again, lifting and lowering her pussy over his cock. She arched her back to get the best angle against her G-spot and cause her clit to ram against the base of his cock with each thrust.

  Julian smoothed his hands up from her hips to her chest. He squeezed her breasts with his palms roughly, plucking at her nipples. “You’re beautiful like this, little girl.”

  She was close to coming again. Her body never really had the chance to come down from the first orgasm.

  “Don’t come until I do. You choose the speed. When you feel me pulsing inside you, then you may come.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Her voice was no more than a squeak. She bounced faster, caught in a catch twenty-two. The speed drew her closer to orgasm, but it also took Julian with her. The problem was the damn man had more stamina than her. He could hold off longer, no matter how hard she tried to drag him under. And that meant more work for her to keep from coming. She was an expert by now, never losing the fight. But some days it was more trying than others.

  Julian’s mouth opened a sliver, a sign he was growing close and wouldn’t hold back. He dropped one hand onto her hip, keeping the other pinching her nipple. His fingers bit into her side, and she loved the ache. She’d have bruises again.

  Morgan pressed her lips together tightly, praying he would tip over the edge soon so she could tumble after him.

  Her wish was granted a few thrusts later. Julian stiffened. He gripped her breast and hip tighter, deliciously painful, to keep her from lifting upward any more. As he pulsed deep against her cervix, Morgan ground her clit against him and let herself go, staring into his dark eyes as she tipped into the abyss.

  This second orgasm was longer than the first. Deeper. More intense, if that was possible. Like somehow the first one ramped her up. She felt it all the way to her core. When she finally came down from her high, she found Julian smiling at her and stroking stray hairs from her forehead. “Gorgeous, little girl. So fucking sexy.” He wrapped his hand behind her neck and pulled her face to his until their lips met. And then he kissed her senseless, angling to one side to stroke between her lips with his tongue until she opened wide for him.

  Julian could kiss. He’d won her over entirely the first time he’d done so, and he’d proven himself in that department every day since. If anything, he’d gotten better over the years. She swore, given the opportunity, she could come from his kiss alone.

  She closed her eyes and settled into his caress, letting her Sir take care of her. She was the luckiest little girl alive.

  No one could touch her when she was as high as she was at that moment.

  Her body relaxed into Julian’s as he controlled her mouth, commanding her to mold to him with his lips and tongue. It was an amazing dance they often performed as Morgan came back from subspace.

  She was barely awake when Julian stood and carried her to their bed. He settled her on the sheets, tucked her in, and crawled in behind her, wrapping his strong arm around her middle and holding her tight. “Mine. Little girl. Mine.” He kissed her temple as she drifted into sleep, unable to respond to the obvious.

  She was indeed his in every way.

  Chapter Six

  “I’ve pulled together everything you asked for,” Kathryn said from the door of Morgan’s office, Andrew standing beside her.

  “And I ordered pizza,” he said.

  Morgan sighed. “I need to eat better if I want to wrap my brain around all the parts of this grant application.”

  Andrew grinned and slipped in to take a seat beside Kathryn. “That’s why I ordered you a salad. The pizza is for me and Kathryn.”

  Morgan’s grin matched his. “Life saver.”

  Kathryn dropped a pile of documents on Morgan’s desk. “This is all the data about the kids who have been through the program in the past five years, including household income and family status.”

  Morgan nodded. The kids were the best bet for securing the grant. So many of them would never be exposed to art if it weren’t for what they were doing at the Loft.

  “You all are amazing. I’m sorry I’ve been keeping you so late. I’m sure you both have better things you could be doing.”

  Andrew shrugged and looked at Kathryn. “Well, I don’t, bu
t I don’t really have a life. Kathryn has probably had to cancel dozens of dates. You should let her go.”

  Kathryn snorted. “Hardly dozens.”

  Morgan grinned at the brunette. Her pixie cut with a purple streak and young face made her look like she’d just gotten out of high school, belying her twenty-three years. “I don’t want either of you canceling plans for this anymore. I’ll figure it out. You’ve done enough.”

  Andrew pulled a hand through his dark hair. “It’s really not a big deal, Morgan. That’s what friends do.”

  She smiled at both of them and looked at the stack of papers on her desk. From beside her, her phone buzzed in a text. It was Julian, she was sure. He’d been texting most of the day, checking in, testing her with requests that ultimately she had to tell him she couldn’t fulfill. She hadn’t told him about the grant. She wouldn’t. This was something she could do on her own, that she wanted to do on her own. She didn’t want his help or to explain to him that she was trying to protect the Loft from counting on him too much. She sighed, dropped the phone in her purse, and glanced at the curious faces of her two friends. “Well, let’s start sorting through this data.”

  •●•

  Morgan was late again. All this week, she and Julian had passed each other like two ships in the night, and he was beyond frustrated. After their spanking session, he thought they’d pushed past the Luke stumbling block, pushed past her ignoring his needs, but his Morgan was still evading. Something was going on, and if the knot in his gut didn’t tell him, then her late hours certainly confirmed it.

  It was after midnight when she came into the apartment, looking worn and more exhausted than he’d ever seen her. He’d been texting every half hour since nine. Her defiance warranted the flogging of her life, but the moment he spotted the dark circles beneath her eyes and the yellowish tint to her skin, he gave up the idea of punishment play. Instead, he removed her coat and scooped her up into his arms, walking her to the bedroom.

  “What are you doing to yourself, little girl?”

  “It’s the beginning of the session, Sir.” She rested her cheek against his chest and Julian’s heart twisted.

  “That’s not it. You’ve had many sessions begin at the Loft. You’re hiding something and when you do that, it means you don’t trust me to help you.”

  She blinked big blue eyes at him. “I trust you, Sir.”

  He set her gently on the velvet duvet cover of their king-size bed and smoothed her white-blonde hair down, tracing her cheeks with his fingers. “Then tell me what’s causing this. Is something wrong? Are you avoiding me?”

  The fist in his gut made it hard to speak. They’d been together a long time, and he’d never experienced this kind of distance from her. He needed her to talk to him.

  “No, Sir. There’s just a lot going on at the Loft.”

  He shook his head. “It’s too much. I’m going to hire a different executive director. This isn’t good for you.”

  Her eyes widened. “Julian. No. The Loft, it’s everything to me. Those kids. They need it. They need me. It’s just a busy time. I promise I’m fine.”

  Her words were like nails clawing at his skin. “The Loft is everything to you?”

  Too late, she must have realized what she’d said. Her eyes dropped. “No. That’s not what I meant. You’re everything to me, Sir. It’s just the Loft… I’ve worked so hard. I’m not sure someone else will take care of the program and the kids. Another person won’t understand how important it is for those kids.”

  He gripped her chin and tilted her head up, studying her face. “It’s taking you from me, princess. It’s keeping you from doing little tasks that I ask. I can’t have that. You know what you mean to me?”

  She nodded.

  “I don’t think you do. You wouldn’t be testing me with this if you understood.”

  “Please, Sir. I know. Just give me some time. Things will be better soon. I’m overwhelmed is all, but I have a handle on it.” She shifted to pull at his belt buckle, but he stopped her hands, encircling her thin wrists.

  “We’re done with the late nights, the incomplete tasks I give you, and the ignored texts, Morgan. You belong to me, not the Loft, not anyone else. If you have a problem, you talk to me about it. This isn’t yours to figure out on your own.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He slowly removed her clothes, not doing more than business-like touching even though her body reacted as it always did to him. When she was completely naked, he lifted her and whisked her beneath the duvet, tucking the covers around her and smoothing her hair back again.

  “Sleep now, baby girl. Tomorrow we’re both taking the day off. It’ll be a four-day weekend. I have plans for us.”

  For a moment, her cherry lips parted, and he knew she’d try to fight him. He dropped a hungry kiss on her mouth, stopping the protest until she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. When he finally pulled back, her face had more color, and her lips were wet and bruised. He patted her head one more time and moved to flip off the light.

  “Tomorrow,” he said again as he exited the room, but she’d already closed her eyes to sleep.

  •●•

  The drive north to their cabin was almost five hours. Julian had been tempted to hire a driver so he and Morgan could have privacy and playtime during the ride up, but he liked having a car in Ely. With the cabin so isolated, they needed transportation to access groceries and supplies.

  He let Morgan choose the music for the trip, but for the first two hours, she mostly fretted and typed into her phone. She had more color than she’d had the night before, but the crease on her brow was still there. His stomach clenched at her unwillingness to tell him what was going on. After her third frustrated sigh when her cell dropped out of service, he took her phone away.

  “Kathryn can hold down the Loft for a few days, Morgan. Someone else can take your class. You’re done with the phone now.”

  “You’ve been checking your phone too. I saw you at the gas station,” she pouted.

  He had been checking his phone, but only to delete the text he’d received from Lucinda. One of a dozen he’d received since the night of the benefit.

  I’m available for anything, Julian. Say the word.

  He couldn’t think about Lucinda at the moment. She was lovely, but she was part of the Loft, and Julian suspected that would be a problem for his Morgan. He couldn’t ask Lucinda to disappear in the same way he had Luke. She was an instructor, and no matter how available for anything she was, he wouldn’t compromise Morgan’s workplace like that.

  “You don’t need your phone, little girl,” he repeated.

  She nibbled her lip but nodded and clasped her hands in her lap. “It’s been a while since we’ve been to the cabin.”

  He smiled. “Yes, princess. Last time was the summer, you skinny dipping in the lake, teasing me until I couldn’t take it anymore and had to have you on the raft.”

  She returned his smile. “That was fun.”

  He traced a finger over her forehead. “We haven’t had that kind of fun in a while.”

  “That’s not true, Julian.”

  He put both hands back on the steering wheel. “It is. Even the scene with Luke was a disappointment. You haven’t been at ease in a long time. Are you ready to tell me about it?”

  “It’s nothing. Stress. Life. I don’t know.”

  Julian didn’t glance at her. He didn’t need to. He knew that guarded expression on her face, holding something back from him. He hoped play at the cabin would bring her out again.

  His phone rang thirty minutes from the cabin. He frowned at the number and answered.

  “This is Julian.”

  “Julian, hi, it’s Andrew. I work with Morgan. Kathryn said she was with you, and I wondered if I could speak with her. Her phone isn’t on.”

  Julian knew Andrew, but only vaguely. He was soft, not imposing, and taught drawing. Not young and hungry like Luke, or formidable like some o
f the Doms in their circle, but middle-of-the-road. Vanilla. “Is this an emergency?”

  “No. But I’d like to speak to Morgan.” Julian paused at the steel in Andrew’s tone. It was almost protective. Maybe he wasn’t so soft after all. Julian wondered if this man was what Morgan had been keeping from him.

  Julian pressed mute and held the phone out to Morgan. “It’s Andrew. Is there a story here?”

  She glanced at the phone and paused almost imperceptibly. If Julian hadn’t known her for ten years, he might have missed it.

  “He’s a friend. He works at the Loft. You know him.”

  Julian raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”

  She snatched the phone from him. “Don’t be silly, Julian. He’s a colleague. I’m not fucking him.”

  She unmuted the phone and stared out the side window. “Hi, Andrew.”

  •●•

  Andrew had called on Julian’s phone. It crossed a line, and Morgan knew it. Her stomach twisted at the thought Julian might let Andrew go from the Loft, replace him with a woman. She hated that he had the ability to get rid of any of the staff he felt threatened by. Not that Andrew would ever be a threat. He was a friend. More like a girlfriend than any of the women she’d met in the BDSM community or with Julian.

  “Morgan. Is everything okay?” Andrew asked, worry evident in his tone.

  “Of course. We’re taking a few days off. Heading up to the cabin for a long weekend. Didn’t Kathryn tell you?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, but you didn’t mention it last night. It’s unlike you. We’re in the middle of working on the Smith grant, and I just wanted to check in, see if you’d gotten sick from the salad or something.”

  “The project’s not due until the end of the month.”

  “Morgan,” he said, and this time his tone was almost stern. “You’ve been obsessing over that thing. I was with you working on it last night. Don’t brush it off. Does this have to do with Julian?”

  She glanced at Julian’s clenched fists on the wheel, his strong jaw tensed. His darkness stood out from the bright winter sunshine outside. She didn’t think he could hear her call, but she couldn’t risk it. He’d flip if he knew about the grant, if he thought she was trying to go around him, get the Loft out from under him.